


Ice Melt

by scapeartist



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst and Humor, F/M, Gen, Snow x Hook bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:55:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scapeartist/pseuds/scapeartist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian saves Mary Margaret and the baby from an icy fate, but falls under the curse himself. Emma must believe in herself more than ever if she's going to free Killian from his icy cage, and Snow confronts her own feelings toward Killian in the face of his selflessness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ice Melt

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to take place sometime toward the middle/end of season 4A.

“Killian!! _Look out_!” Mary Margaret shouted, a look of terror on her face as she clutched her infant son to her chest, cradling his head in her hand. 

Killian, Emma, Mary Margaret, and the young prince were on their way back to Snow’s loft after leaving the bakery where they had picked up a cake for Henry’s birthday party set for the next afternoon. They’d barely stepped out of the shop when the clear blue sky darkened into a thick, gray blanket of snow clouds, and the temperature rapidly dropped somewhere just below freezing. The first snow flakes floated down softly—a gentle warning of who was behind the coming storm—before the wind picked up, whipping tiny ice pellets into their hair and faces. Elsa slid along an icy patch of road, deflecting the Snow Queen’s rapid fire curses in every direction. Emma needed only to look at Killian for him to know what she wanted. They separated, Emma running toward the fray, her own magic gathering in her hands as she sped toward danger to help her friend, and Killian swiftly guiding Mary Margaret toward the shelter of alley next to the bakery. From there, he could watch out for Emma and keep her family from harm. Or so he thought. 

He’d just turned around to steer Mary Margaret deeper into the alley when she urgently pointed toward the street, fear in her voice.  

With a brief look over his shoulder, Killian could see the curse that Mary Margaret must have spotted ricocheting towards them. There was no way they were going to dodge or outrun it—not while Snow was carrying the baby. Killian grabbed Mary Margaret’s shoulder stopping her retreat, and pulled her and the baby in towards him, their backs to the incoming curse. She and the baby were encircled in his arms, shielded from the blast just as it slammed into him.

At first, Killian felt nothing other than the force of the magic as it hit him square in the back, knocking him off-kilter, and loosening his grip on the box that held Henry’s cake. As it tumbled out of his grasp to the ground, Killian wondered if the ricochet had expended the power from the spell thrown, and that perhaps he would be spared its effect, but quickly abandoned that line of thinking when the first wave of magic rippled over him. Within a breath, a loud crackling sound began echoing through the alley as the leather of his new jacket turned to ice, spreading like a web out across his back, down his sleeves, and up over his collar, while, at the same time, sinking deeper through the layers of his clothing until it hit his skin. He tried to move away from Mary Margaret and the baby but it was too late. He was rooted to the spot like an icicle to a roofline. 

The frost etching its way through his veins and hardening all it touched was nothing like the cold winds he was used to enduring while manning the night watch in wintery climes. No, this cold was a burning emptiness that left him bereft of hope but filled with a singular loneliness that made his life after Liam and Milah’s deaths seem bloody cheerful. The iciness coursing through his limbs and torso sucked any warmth not just from his physical body but from his very soul. The outside of him was becoming clear and bright as glass, but he could feel a vast darkness overtaking him—every inch of his body hardening like rock, slowing down his thoughts, his breath, his heart. He glanced down at Mary Margaret with a faint, sad smile for all he was no longer able to say to Emma, to Henry, to David, to her as she looked on with horror, helpless. He crackled too, now, like his icy coat, until the frigid blight completed its purpose and Killian Jones was no more than an elaborate ice sculpture. 

~.~

Mary Margaret could feel the impact of the curse hitting Killian as he protected her and the baby from being struck by it as well. His arms went around them both tightly, concealing them, and she braced herself, remaining steady against Killian’s chest to help them both stay upright against the force of the magic. It jarred her, and she tucked her son in tighter to her body, making sure he stayed in her grip, warm and safe no matter what. When she thought they were out of danger, she expected Killian to release her, but she stilled when she heard popping and snapping coming from all around her. She turned her head to look up at Killian to ask what the noise was, but the words never left her mouth. To her utter dismay, he was turning to ice, inch by freezing inch, with a rapidity that left her helpless to slow it down or stop it from overtaking him before she could free herself from his now fixed embrace. She could see the panic in his eyes for the briefest of moments before he caught her own frightened look, and smiled down at her, the pale blue of his eyes blending in with the rest of him with one final snap as his transformation completed. _No no no no no..._

“Killian?” she asked in a small, frightened voice as the baby began to fuss from the confines of her arms. She shifted the boy just enough to free a hand as she murmured, “This can’t be happening...oh Hook, _no_.” She touched his cold, cold face, until her fingertips burned and threatened to stick to his jaw. Carefully, she turned away from him and snuggled the baby as the cold, coming from being so close to Killian, began seeping into her back. Panic set in quickly at the thought that maybe the curse wouldn’t stop with Killian and would continue on to her, to her son. 

“Help!” she yelled as loud as she could. There had to be someone close by. Mary Margaret was terrified of moving from Killian’s icy embrace, lest she break some part of him off or shatter him completely, but her range of motion was too limited to even lower the baby to the ground. She closed her eyes and tried to collect herself and think of a way out, but couldn’t get the look of sadness and resignation frozen on Killian’s glassy face out of her head. Mary Margaret choked back a sob as the baby began wailing in earnest. 

“Please help!” she called out again, frantic, holding little Neal close not just for his comfort, but for her own. Guilt over the way she’d been acting towards Killian the last few weeks overwhelmed her. 

She was still trying to get used to the idea that Killian and Emma were...a thing...and now here he was, frozen solid and probably dead, all because he was looking after her safety for Emma’s sake. This was not the first time he put his life at risk for her family and all she could think of was how resistant she’d been to Emma wanting to be with him, and for what reason? Because he reminded her of when she was at her lowest? She could see now that her life on the run wasn’t so different from his life at sea. She knew enough about his background to recognize that he wasn’t _just_ a pirate any more than she was _just_ a bandit. If it weren’t for meeting David, who knows where she’d be today? Maybe Emma _was_ home for Killian, and maybe Killian _was_ the one person who could bring out the best in Emma. Who was she to try to take that away from either of them? Right now she’d give anything to bring Killian back, give him her blessing and let him and Emma find their own happiness the way she and David had. But she didn’t possess that kind of power.

Footsteps echoed over the now quiet street, and Snow sniffed and tried to wipe her eyes as best she could with the limited movement she had. The baby whimpered and she tried again to talk to him in her most calming tone, but she couldn’t maintain it for long. 

“Mom?” Emma called out. 

_Oh, God, how am I going to make this up to her?_ Fresh tears rolled down her cheeks as she said in a tremulous voice, “I’m here!”   

~.~

When the Snow Queen vanished in a whirlwind of ice and hail—no doubt to return later probably riding on a friggin’ Tauntaun—and the streets became safe again minus the patches of ice here and there, Emma rushed back in the general direction where she had left Killian and her mother. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear a baby crying and it worried her. As she got closer to the crying, she could hear the sound of her mother’s voice shushing the baby and crying in turn. What she couldn’t hear was Killian and that concerned her most of all. 

“Mom? ...Mom! Where are you?” Emma yelled.

“Emma!! We’re down here. You need to hurry. Killian—” Mary Margaret started, her voice cracking at Killian’s name. 

When Emma turned down the alley where Killian had been taking cover with her mother and brother, she stopped dead in her tracks, her heart seizing and then racing when she took in the scene before her. Emma’s jaw dropped and the sting of tears burned behind her eyes. _Killian... Oh, God. Killian..._ She could hear Mary Margaret talking to her, but the words were not registering, not making any sense. All she saw was a Killian-shaped piece of ice hunched around something she couldn’t make out in the dim light of the alley, but assumed was her mother. She rushed forward, wiping the tears from her eyes, and saw, in fact, that it was her mother, trapped inside the circle of Killian’s frozen limbs, baby squirming and wailing to be free from the tight restraint of Mary Margaret’s own arms, as well as Killian’s. 

The look of sorrow frozen on Killian’s face made her gasp, her own regret at separating from him crawling up from her belly, and closing her throat from both sound and breath. What kind of savior was she leaving the people she cared most about vulnerable to a fate like this? Killian was the real savior and she didn’t know what she would do if she couldn’t change him back.  

“Oh, Emma, _I’m so sorry_ ,” Mary Margaret said through her tears. “He saved—”

Emma held up her hand and closed her eyes to keep from looking at the pity in her mother’s face even as her chest contracted at Killian’s current state of suspended animation. She cleared her throat and let loose a shaking breath. “Stop. Just stop,” she pleaded. “I can’t...not yet. Let’s just...get you out of there, ok?” _And then I might be able to deal with what to do next._

More footsteps came rushing toward them as David raced in, gun drawn. He, too, came up short, confusion clouding his face. “What the hell?” he asked, shocked. 

Holstering his pistol, David reached out to touch Killian’s shoulder with a mix of fascination and horror on his face, but pulled his hand away, almost as if he were afraid of what could happen if he made contact, whether to himself or Killian, Emma couldn’t be sure. David glanced wide-eyed at Emma and she wondered if she looked as blown-away as David did. She felt like the earth had just opened up again, waiting to suck her into another place and time she didn’t want to be, and she struggled to maintain some sort of grasp on reality. Emma concentrated on the sound of her brother’s cries to keep her present.  

She watched as David skirted around Killian’s icy form to where he could face his wife and touch her face tenderly. “Are you ok? Is the baby ok?” he asked, his breath visible the closer he came to Killian.

Mary Margaret just nodded, unable to speak, and leaned into David’s hand. 

“David, can you take the baby from Mary Margaret? Then I’ll help her get out,” Emma asked, interrupting their reunion. 

She needed something productive to focus on, because she didn’t know how long she had before Killian might begin to melt. Now that the fight was over, the sun was back out and the day warming up again. She’d be damned if she was going to watch him turn into a puddle before her eyes. There was no time to waste. 

“Yeah, sure,” David answered with a nod. Reaching over Killian’s arms, David was able to get both hands around the baby, who had finally stopped crying when he heard his father’s voice. “Come on, little man. I’ve got you,” David cooed, as he pulled his son out of Snow’s arms. He backed away, bouncing the boy on his shoulder to soothe and warm him and give Emma the space she needed to give her mother a hand as she finally had the room to gingerly duck out from under Killian’s arms. 

While her mother was happily enfolded into David’s embrace this time, Emma contemplated Killian. She held out her hands, feeling the coolness of the air around him, and closed her eyes. She pictured him breathing, alive, and smiling at her, touching her face gently with his warm hand, his heart beating steadily under hers. Her magic was building up around and through her, and she thought the words she’d already uttered one too many times before: _Killian come back to me_. She thought of how much he cared for and loved her then released her magic in a blinding wave of light. 

When she opened her eyes, she fully expected to see him standing there, cocky smile and lifted eyebrow, innuendo at the ready, even — especially — in front of her parents. But he was still frozen. A pretty and silent block of ice unable to reassure her of her powers or that they would get through this. She choked back a sob and moved closer to him, wanting nothing more than to hear him call her “love” again. 

“Emma,” her mother said, touching her arm softly. “Emma, there’s one more thing you can do. You can bring him back. You just need to believe.”

“I did believe! Nothing happened. I don’t know how to save him,” she cried, defeated. “I’m not powerful enough.”

“That’s not what she means,” David said. “You have to believe in _your_ feelings for him, Emma. They are powerful enough. You know they are.” 

Did she? The last few weeks had been intense — they’d fought and made up and tested each other over and over again. He’d done some really stupid shit. And he apologized, he’d made up for it. He tried to be better every day. She learned things about him that made her respect him more than she thought possible. He’d been by her side through every insane thing that happened: wicked witches, snow queens, time travel mishaps, and strained relationships. He always believed in her no matter the circumstance. And she loved him.  

Her father was right. Ducking under the circle of Killian’s arms, Emma stood in the space where her mother had been spared from a similar fate and she traced his jawline with her finger. He was so cold. The irrational part of her brain wondered if she’d end up stuck to him like the kid in the Christmas movie who touched his tongue on a frozen pole. Did it matter? She had to try. Closing her eyes again, Emma leaned in and pressed her lips to Killian’s frozen mouth. Instead of the seeping cold, she felt her intense need and want...and love...for him wrapping around her heart like a golden thread, and then she felt her magic rise up and release again. This time when she opened her eyes it was because his arms were closing around her back and then his hand slipped into her hair, his lips warming beneath hers. She broke off the kiss to look into his eyes — the only bit of blue left — and laughed with joy. 

“Is it warm in here?” he asked, sliding his hand to cup her cheek as they kissed again. 

“Ok, ok. There’s a child present,” David teased loudly nodding at his son resting in the crook of his arm. “Not to mention parents,” he mumbled, his warm smile contradicting his offended tone. 

Emma rested her forehead against Killian’s and whispered, “Later,” then took his hand, giving it a squeeze. His skin was still cool to the touch, but the color had returned to his face and she could not have been more relieved. Of course, there would need to be a serious conversation later, but for now, she just wanted to get out of the alley and into a warm bed. She was pretty confident Killian wouldn’t argue with that plan. 

Before she could lead them back out to the road, Snow rushed forward and flung her arms around Killian’s shoulders. His initial look of shock melted as he released Emma’s hand and returned Mary Margaret’s hug, much to Emma’s surprise. When her mother finally let go of him, Killian leaned down to her eye-level and smiled and winked at her.

“Thank you, m’lady,” he said.  

Snow rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Go,” she said, pushing him and Emma toward the street.

 


End file.
